


Durin's Folk

by KivrinEngle



Series: The Sons of Durin [4]
Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - All Media Types, The Hobbit - J. R. R. Tolkien, The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Crossover, Families of Choice, Scotland, Sons of Durin 'verse, sorry this tagging is awfully lacking
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-07-18
Updated: 2015-07-19
Packaged: 2018-04-09 22:02:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,892
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4365824
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KivrinEngle/pseuds/KivrinEngle
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Sons of Durin have their mountain, and Bilbo Baggins tells himself that he is content to live in peace in the Highlands for the rest of his days. But there are greater evils than Smaug in the world, and Bilbo is in possession of something that is being desperately sought out by powers beyond his imagination. It is...precious to them.</p>
<p>Otherwise known as the long-threatened Sons of Durin sequel, wherein no Lord of the Rings reference is safe. Prior knowledge of Sons of Durin canon is probably entirely necessary for this to be anything like enjoyable.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. A Long-Expected Party

**Author's Note:**

> This work is a sequel to my story, The Sons of Durin, and picks up fairly close to where that tale ended. The short stories found in the collection Children of the Lonely Mountain add a great deal to the canon of this world, but are, perhaps, not as necessary in order to enjoy this piece.

When Mr. Bilbo Baggins, once of Bag End, and now resident on the Lonely Mountain, announced that the Sons of Durin would shortly be celebrating the anniversary of the opening of the mines of Beinn Chuirn with a party of special magnificence, there was much talk and excitement in Tyndrum.

More accurately, there was talk and excitement throughout the length and breadth of Scotland, and anywhere else that the notoriety of his adopted family had spread. Tyndrum, being the closest settlement of any size to their remote location, played host to much of the preparatory activity, and the local inhabitants watched the celebration take shape with great interest. 

Summer had come to Beinn Chuirn with special brilliance. The heather on the hillsides was bright and alive with the hum of dancing bees, and the children of the Lonely Mountain splashed in the little burns and climbed the trees with wild abandon at all hours, under a brilliant sun that hardly seemed to set. It had taken a full year of work to bring the mines into full operation - but with the work, prosperity had come to Beinn Chuirn and the whole surrounding area. Tyndrum was full of life, and the people who lived around the mountain looked upon it now with fond gratitude, already forgetting the years of superstitious fear about the place.

Thorin didn’t see the point of the party. 

“Don’t we have enough to worry about, without inviting half the country up here to gawk at us?” he grumbled to Bilbo - but only to Bilbo, and only in restrained tones. It was great progress for him, and Bilbo welcomed it with hidden delight. “The mines are running, yes, and are nearly self-sustaining now - but there’s so much more to be done! I do not see why we must waste our time this way.”

“You’re just annoyed that I’ve invited Thranduil,” Bilbo retorted, turning away to grin down at his invite list, taking care to hide the smile. “You know you want to show it off, Thorin. The work you’ve done here is remarkable! Why shouldn’t the whole country come and marvel?”

“There is that,” Thorin admitted after a thoughtful moment. “And it will be good to have everyone together again for a while. When are Fili and Kili coming up?”

“I don’t know,” Bilbo said, frowning. “I meant to speak to you about that, actually. I’ve tried to get hold of them to let them know, but I’ve had no response, and it’s been close to a week. Is everything alright with those two?”

“I haven’t heard anything from them in a fortnight.” Thorin’s face darkened with the worry that had once been an inescapable part of his expression, but which Bilbo had seen less and less often as they settled into the comforts of their life on the mountain. “It’s not like them to miss check-ins.”

“They’re civilians now!” Bilbo said. He forced a bit of a chuckle, trying to lighten Thorin’s mood, though a shiver of nameless worry went through him as well. “And young men, what’s more. They’re exploring their freedom - and I’d say they’ve more than earned it. Do see if you can get them up here for the celebration, but please don’t cause a scene!”

“I was young myself, once,” Thorin reminded him, sounding darkly amused. “I know precisely how much trouble they could be getting themselves into.” But he smiled a little as he began the laborious process of texting the lads, and Bilbo knew their ability to manipulate him would be as well-honed as ever, no matter what they had been getting up to. 

Bilbo turned back to his inspection of the party preparations. There were huge tents and banners, and streamers blowing in the warm summer breeze, giving the little mountain clearing the air of a festival. The hill sloped gently in that place, offering plenty of room for the masses of tables and chairs that were yet to be set up.

“No good,” a warm voice said conversationally, just behind Bilbo, and he turned to see Bofur grinning cheekily down at him. “You have many admirable talents, it must be said, but I’m afraid you’ve missed out the most important part of the celebration!”

“I haven’t!” Bilbo said, immediately beginning to flip through his alphabetised organisational charts. “Cakes are arriving first thing in the morning, and enough food to feed half of Scotland for a week. Alcohol by the barrel, and more hidden away in case we run out early. We’ve got mine tours for the media, and I think Bombur is planning to make a speech, if we can’t get him distracted in time. Gandalf is even bringing in fireworks - don’t ask me how. I’ve been looking after all the preparations for weeks now! What could possibly be missing?”

Bofur just grinned at him, holding up a finger to indicate he should wait and listen - and then, from away up the mountain, came the unmistakable drone, followed by the first clear notes. Bagpipes - and then there were drums, beating out a rhythm that made his feet twitch, and Bilbo sighed in acknowledgment. “Music, of course. I hadn’t even thought! Who’ve you brought in to play?”

“Us, of course!” Bofur laughed aloud at the surprise on Bilbo’s face, and patted him on the shoulder. “It’s no good thinking you’ve got the entire measure of us just yet, lad. I dare say we still have some surprises in store for you for some years yet.”

Bilbo smiled at that, the familiar warmth rising in his chest at the easy certainty of that statement - the assumption that he would be with them for years to come. It was something he could not yet take for granted, and the part of his head that was still partially a lonely grocer from Linlithgow never ceased to be surprised. “I never knew you lot played,” he said quickly, to cover up his flutter of joy. 

“We didn’t often get the chance on the road.” Bofur stretched languidly, turning his face up to the sun with a contented smile. “Here, we are free.”

Bilbo nodded, and felt yet another swell of gratitude toward the mountain that had made such peace a possibility for his weary friends. “So, music, then,” he said after a moment. “Anything else that I’ve forgotten, oh planner of parties?”

Bofur gestured at the open space in front of them. “Not so long as you’ve accounted for the dancing!”

“Dancing?”

“Goes with the music, of course! And what sort of party could it be without dancing?” Away up on the mountain, someone’s pipe gave a sudden and terrible squawk, and a roar of good-natured laughter drifted down on the breeze. It was good.

Bilbo sat up late that night - far later than was wise, but there were always more details to be looked after, and the stars were very bright and welcoming in the clear night’s sky, if one sat up late enough to see them. He was sitting by the embers of a dying fire, smoking a pipe that was a lasting piece of evidence that the Sons of Durin had corrupted him, when Gandalf arrived. 

“Gandalf! I didn’t expect to see you here tonight!” Bilbo said cheerfully, waving him over, but not bothering to get up to greet the man. “I thought to see you tomorrow morning. I don’t suppose I shall ever get used to the way you just turn up.”

Gandalf raised one bushy eyebrow at him, and lowered himself into the soft grass with a groan. “Yes, well. And you, Bilbo Baggins! I don’t believe I shall ever cease to be surprised by your capacity to adapt to your situation! The fussy young grocer I knew for so many years would never have thought of sitting alone at night on a mountain, surrounded by hardened criminals.” Bilbo laughed aloud at that, since the last of those hardened criminals he had talked to had been Ori, who was coming to show him the truly horrible mittens he had just finished knitting for Frodo. It was hard, sometimes, to remember that there had ever been a time when he had been afraid of them. “You seem to grow younger with the years, Bilbo,” Gandalf mused. “I knew all along that your little adventure would do you good.”

“Little adventure?” Bilbo scoffed. “Is that what you call it? I still wake up shocked to find that we’re all still alive, thanks to that little adventure of yours! Next time, I’ll thank you to leave me out!”

“Really?” Gandalf peered at him with eyes made sharp by the glowing embers. “Are you truly content to sit here in quiet the rest of your days?”

Bilbo shifted uncomfortably, the quick, easy answer dying on his lips. Of course he enjoyed the peace! It was what he had longed for all throughout his adventure, and he knew it was what Thorin and the rest had been searching for more than two decades to regain. And he did love the mountain, and the contentment on the faces of his family…

“No more adventures,” he said certainly, and pushed back the wave of disappointment at his own words. Just because he got itchy feet, or found himself dreaming of the wild thrills and dangers of their adventures at the worst possible times, was not reason enough to risk what they had. “We’ll thank you to keep those to yourself from now on.”

Gandalf shrugged, and looked away into the dying fire for a long moment. “I wish that I could promise you I would,” he said eventually. His voice was very low. “But I am afraid, Bilbo, that more excitement than you wish to see may be coming.”

Bilbo’s heart gave a leap - of fear or excitement, he was not sure - and he sat up, leaning toward Gandalf. “What’s wrong? Is it Smaug? I thought he was still locked up!”

“He is,” Gandalf assured him with a calming wave of his hand. “And we will speak of it at length soon enough.” He was quiet another moment, and then seemed to shake himself awake, smiling at Bilbo. “After all - it would not do to interfere with your long-expected party, now would it?”


	2. A Conspiracy Unmasked

The morning of the party dawned bright and beautiful, to Bilbo’s great relief, and the guests began to arrive shortly after the light. He supposed he shouldn’t have been surprised that the guests of his own peculiar, wonderful family would be nearly as unlikely to follow social conventions as they themselves had always been. 

Gloin and his family were first on the scene, to no-one’s surprise. Young Gimli was clearly dismayed not to find Fili and Kili in evidence yet. He sulked quietly for a few minutes - until he was discovered by Frodo and his little band of friends, and then he was swept away in the middle of the crowd, throwing nervous glances back at the adults to see if they had noticed that he was uncool enough to be having fun. Bombur drove up next, in an expensive car that looked conspicuously out of place in their wild home. He did not stand on ceremony, though, and Bilbo hardly had the chance to shake his hand and welcome him home before he was off with Bofur and Bifur, all three already roaring with laughter. 

Bilbo made the rounds, checking to see that all of the food deliveries were being set up properly, and had to laugh quietly when he found Thorin fussing over the arrangement of the tables and chairs. 

“Waste of time, didn’t you say?” he asked loudly, and grinned unrepentantly at Thorin when he glared at Bilbo. “I thought you had better things to do?”

“If a thing is worth doing, it’s worth doing right,” Thorin growled - but his eyes twinkled, and Bilbo could see the excitement he kept buried just below the surface. “If those nephews of ours don’t show up soon and make themselves useful, I’ll set them to clearing away all this lot themselves.”

Bilbo hummed an amused acknowledgment, and looked up at the sky - a brilliant, cloudless blue that nearly matched the colour of the flag that flew proudly at the entrance to their mines, now. “And are you going to be civil to Thranduil when he arrives?”

Thorin nodded stiffly. “I know how to be a decent host. I do not have to like the man in order to tolerate his presence.”

“That’s the spirit,” Bilbo encouraged him. “Besides, he’s likely to bring Legolas along, and then he and Kili can have that shooting match they’ve been promising.”

Thorin brightened noticeably. “That would wipe the smirk off Thranduil’s face!” Bilbo shook his head, patting Thorin’s arm fondly as he left him to his furniture-arranging, and wandered back down to see if anyone else had yet arrived. 

To his surprise, he found Dori standing by the entrance to their little world, staring intently down the road leading up from Tyndrum. The man was bouncing a little on the balls of his feet, and his hands were clasped tightly behind his back. He started violently when Bilbo cleared his throat to announce his presence.

“Everything all right?” Bilbo asked. Dori nodded, but his smile was unusually tight, and he glanced back down the road at once. 

“I’ve never much liked waiting,” he said quietly. 

“Looking for someone in particular?” Bilbo pressed, hoping he wasn’t overstepping the bounds of their friendship. Dori was a private man - perhaps the most self-contained member of their company - and Bilbo could not begin to guess who he might be waiting for. 

“Hoping, more like,” Dori replied. He glanced at Bilbo again, but Bilbo wasn’t sure that Dori was even seeing him at all. “It may all come to nothing.”

Bilbo nodded and patted his shoulder, and left him to his vigil. Dori would share with the rest of them when he was ready.

The guests continued to arrive - first in ones and twos, and then in a seemingly endless torrent. It seemed that nearly the entire populace of Tyndrum had invited themselves along, and Bilbo couldn’t fault them. Bard was there, scowling fondly at his children as they joined in the games of the children of the mountain, and the self-important drunk who styled himself “the Master of Tyndrum” was already trying to gain access to their impressive stores of alcohol. Dwalin had set himself up as guard, though, and no-one would touch a drop until he decided it was time. Thranduil and Legolas arrived just as things were getting properly crowded, and Bilbo hurried to welcome them, pointing them in a different direction from where he had last seen Thorin. There was no reason to tempt fate, after all. 

Fili and Kili arrived at last, just as Bilbo was beginning to worry about their absence. Even amid the noise of the crowd, he could tell when they arrived from the roars of delight that went up from the Sons of Durin. They were all family, and cherished one another deeply - but the love they bore for the lads was something beyond that. The youngsters had to put up with being hugged and interrogated and hair-ruffled half to death before their collection of adopted uncles let them slip away. Bilbo made his way over to Thorin, knowing that the lads would head directly to their uncle.

He greeted them with appropriate fond embraces, lingering a bit longer with them than he once had, and Bilbo smiled at the sight even as he took his own turn at greeting them properly. It was good to see him so much more open, there in the safety of his own mountain. Eventually, though, he pulled back and set them at arm’s length, and drew a stern expression over his smile. 

“And what do you two have to say for yourselves?” Thorin asked. Kili and Fili exchanged a lightning-fast glance, clearly strategising together. 

“Hi?” Kili tried, offering his brightest grin. Fili rolled his eyes and stomped on his brother’s foot, and Kili shoved him off good-naturedly. 

Thorin raised an eyebrow. “Do either of you care to explain what has kept you so busy that you’ve neglected to check in for over a fortnight?” They shook their heads - the picture of innocence - and Thorin nodded slowly. “I see. And do either of you have anything to say about why you have been avoiding our calls and messages?”

“Things have just been a little busy,” Fili said, staring up into the sky just past Thorin’s left ear. Bilbo snorted at that, recognising the technique from his own wilder days, and Thorin shot him a quick glare that seemed to beg him not to make him laugh. He gave a fraction of a nod, and Thorin turned back to his recalcitrant nephews. 

“Busy. I see.” He took a single step forward, and raised his mobile meaningfully. “And do either of you care to explain why I have just learned from both Gandalf and Beorn that my nephews have not been at work for the past fortnight?”

“Oh, you haven’t!” Bilbo cried, unable to stop himself. “You’ve been doing so well, lads!”

“It’s just a little holiday!” Kili protested, raising his hands defensively. “We haven’t been out of Edinburgh in forever! Surely we’re not expected to stay locked up there all the time?”

“Most people don’t consider the free run of an entire city close confinement, you know,” Bilbo pointed out. He glanced them over more carefully, feeling a little tendril of worry begin to grow. They looked - well, wilder than he had seen them in close to two years. Kili’s hair was growing again, long enough that he had it pulled back in a messy ponytail, and Fili’s boots were mud-splattered. There were lines of tension in their shoulders that he had hoped not to see again, and they held themselves like Thorin’s young soldiers. His heart sank. “Oh, lads,” he said sadly.

“What have you been doing?” Thorin asked. There was a dangerous note in the question, though Bilbo knew it came from worry rather than anger.

“Just a bit of exploring,” Fili said vaguely. “Checking into some leads, poking around some of the old safehouses. You know.” He shrugged one shoulder.

“Why?” Bilbo asked, drawing closer. The four of them were now in a tight little circle, out of earshot of the rest of the gathering, but he still felt as though the conversation ought to be kept private. “What’s brought this on?”

Kili darted a glance over his shoulder. “Talk later?” he suggested. “We ought to include Gandalf in this, at least.”

Thorin pointed at both of them, fixing them with a stern glare. “Don’t think we’re not going to discuss this, boys,” he warned, his voice unusually deep. “You may supposedly be old enough to look after yourselves now, but I’m not about to let you throw your futures away because you get a touch of wanderlust.” He held their gazes for a minute and then stalked away. Bilbo shook his head at them. 

“How bad?” he asked quietly. They made identical faces of worried uncertainty. 

“There’s something coming, Uncle Bill,” Kili murmured. “We don’t know enough yet, but it doesn’t look good.”

Fili looked at Bilbo evenly. “Fair warning,” he said quietly. “I’ve got a mobile, and I’ll use it if I must. We’ll be as law-abiding as we can manage, but we can’t promise more than that.” Bilbo nodded slowly. The little shoot of worry that had been growing in him seemed to take root, and he patted them both fondly on the shoulders, and headed off to look for Gandalf. 

But the party was in full swing now, and he lost the urgency of his mission as he was waylaid by one old friend after another. Bard wanted to growl at him about economics and party-planning for the under-tens set, and Elrond brought him around to meet Lady Galadriel, whose exact title was never mentioned, and old Mrs. Gamgee stopped him for nearly half an inescapable hour to quiz him about all of Sam’s activities and friends. By the time he was free again, he had spotted Fili and Kili running wild with the children, leading them on some merry game. Fili was being dragged along by both hands and his jacked, securely captured in the hands of the little hellions of Beinn Chuirn, and Kili had Bard’s little Tilda perched serenely on his shoulders, directing him to follow his brother. For all that they had seemed poised on the edge earlier, they looked perfectly at peace now, and Bilbo decided to follow their lead for the moment. He grabbed himself a drink (with Dwalin’s solemn nod of permission) and wandered over toward the food. 

It was a popular decision. By a little past noon, nearly everyone was sitting around the long tables, enjoying a proper meal together, and Bilbo had nearly forgotten his early fear. He groaned with a different sort of worry, though, when Bombur stood laboriously and cleared his throat. Bombur was a good and loyal man, and a good MP, as far as Bilbo could tell - but there was little enjoyment in the prospect of listening to him give a lengthy political speech. 

It was interrupted, happily enough, by the arrival of a few late guests. The stir that went up as the first of them appeared was enough to have half the guests on their feet, and Bombur put down his notes, looking a little vexed. Dori was climbing up the path, wearing the widest smile Bilbo had ever seen on him - and on his arm, with a grin to rival his, was a woman about his own age.

“I don’t believe it!” Nori muttered. “After all this time?”

She clearly heard him, and smiled in his direction, warm and oddly fond. Nobody usually smiled at Nori that way. “What, Nori? No hug for your favourite sister-in-law?”

“You’re my only sister-in-law,” Nori grumbled. He crossed his arms and stayed seated, but Bilbo didn’t think he was actually angry. 

Fili and Kili were staring at Dori in shock, and Fili spoke up first, obviously only beating Kili by a second. “When did you go and get married, Dori?” 

“About five years before you were born, love,” Dori’s apparent wife said, after a moment in which it became clear that Dori was too pleased to do much talking. They had reached the tables, now, and she patted Dori’s arm as she left him for long enough to grab Ori in a fond embrace. “Good heavens, Ori! What would your mother say about the state of your hair?”

“Noreen!” Ori squeaked, sounding as surprised as the rest of them. Bilbo watched in bewilderment as Noreen began to make the rounds in a direct, no-nonsense fashion, greeting all of the Sons of Durin by name. Nori endured a hug from her, with an expression of great suffering. 

“Budge up,” a girl said, shoving Kili’s shoulder gently. “It took us near enough forever to get here, and I’m starving!”

“Manners, Dianna!” Noreen called, and the girl grinned back at her, already piling her plate high with food and sitting down next to Kili, who was now squashed into Fili in a way that ought to have looked uncomfortable. As it was Fili and Kili, he wasn’t actually sure that they had noticed. They were both eying Dianna curiously. 

“It’s family, Mama,” she called back, a note of joy in her voice that Bilbo quite liked. “I’ve never had cousins before, but I reckon it’s allowed - bossing them around.”

Gimli, surrounded by hordes of small and filthy children, narrowed his eyes at her. “So if she’s your mother, and she’s married to Dori, then that makes you-”

“He’s my Da,” Dianna said, and nodded in satisfaction. She looked around, taking in the mountain and the celebrations, and let out a deep sigh of contentment. “He’s told us all about you lot.”

The younger set fell to talking together, and Bilbo leaned in closer to whisper to Thorin. “Did you know about this?”

“No,” Thorin murmured. He was watching them in some wonder, and shook his head. “I knew she must have had a good reason for leaving, but Dori never said a word about her again. Noreen left just before Kili was born, and Dis said we oughtn’t blame her.”

“I expect that Dianna was the good reason,” Bilbo whispered. Thorin nodded slowly. 

“Yes,” he said thoughtfully. “No children ought to have been brought up in this life.” He glanced over again at his nephews, who were chattering away happily enough with their new-found cousin. Gimli had thrown off some of his horde of little followers and joined them at their table, and Bilbo could not help but approve. 

Bombur stood again as the whispers died away, and began to shuffle his notes pointedly - but Balin chose the same moment to stand and clear his throat, and Bombur sat down again, looking disappointed. 

“As long as we are in the business of making announcements,” he said, eyes twinkling at Dori as he spoke, “I have one of my own to share with you all.”

“This one I did know about,” Thorin whispered. He sighed glumly. 

“Our mines have become something of a local wonder,” Balin told them all. “We are constantly besieged by those who wish to learn our methods or seek our advice. The effect of this one mine on the surrounding area has been greater than we could have hoped.”

“Hear, hear!” Bard called gruffly. 

“But Beinn Chuirn is far from the only promising mine in Scotland! The government has requested our assistance in restoring a mine that promises to hold even more riches than our own, if the structural damage can be repaired.” Balin paused a moment, looking over their company. “We’re not the brightest minds in the country, nor the strongest arms, but we’ve proven our worth, and now we have a chance to do some good for those around us. I will be leaving for Moria within the week.”

Startled murmurs went around the group, and Balin smiled, but nodded sadly. Ori put his hand up, and then cleared his throat a few times. 

“Erm, I’ll be going, too,” he announced. “I’m not as much use with the mining, but they’ve asked me to do a book. Recording our progress, documenting things - they even want me to draw!” He smiled nervously around at all of them.

Thorin stood, raising his hands to settle some of the chatter. “It is true,” he said. His deep voice carried across the whole gathering. “Balin, Ori, and Oin will be leaving us for a while.” He nodded deeply to all three of them, and his bearing was almost regal. “You will be sorely missed, my friends. We will all look forward to your return to us, once Moria is restored.”

Then there was conversation all around, as they digested the news, and Bilbo found that his appetite had died away. Moria, as it was colloquially known, wasn’t so very far away from Beinn Chuirn, and he knew full well that their friends would only be gone a short time. Still, the unsettled feeling from before was back, stronger than ever.

After a bit, Bombur cleared his throat importantly and stood again, waiting until he had their full attention. He smiled genially at them all, unfolding his notes with care. 

“Look!” someone called, pointing down the road again. Bombur sighed deeply, nodded a time or two, and walked over to place his notes carefully into the fire. 

Someone else was coming up the path - and not someone Bilbo knew. She was probably about his own age, and wore practical shoes, and seemed to be carrying a large plate of cookies. That was all he had time to notice before Bofur all but knocked him over in his hurry to greet the newcomer. He was all wild smiles as he reached her, and even his awful hat seemed unusually cheerful. She came up with him to stand in the clearing, waving at them all without seeming to mind their staring. 

“Yes,” she said after a little while, nodding thoughtfully. “I think this will do very well.”

“Do?” Bofur asked. Everyone else was silent, watching with the honest curiosity of the terminally gossipy. “Do for what?”

“Our wedding, of course!” She laughed gently at him, then, reaching out to pat his cheek kindly as he gaped at her. “Or would you prefer a church ceremony? I thought outside would be best.”

“But I haven’t - what?” Bofur stumbled over his words, his customary charm seemingly deserting him in the pinch. 

“Bofur of Beinn Chuirn,” she said warmly, taking his hands in hers. “If I waited around long enough for you to get up the nerve to ask, we’d both be grey and stooped!”

A smile grew across his face, warm and true, and he gave a shout of laughter and swept her up to twirl them both around. “That’s my Gracie!” Bofur said, grinning. 

Somehow, that seemed to be the signal for everyone to get up and move. There was a shuffling among the crowd - and then music burst forth, as if from the mountain itself. The Sons of Durin - or most of them, at least - were playing the bagpipes and drums, with at least one fiddle that Bilbo could make out. He found himself caught up in the whirl of the crowd as they swept out onto the green, and then they were dancing - wild and lively dances that seemed to grow out of the ground itself and catch them up in the beat of the music. They whirled and stomped, shouted and spun, and the music carried them on with hardly a pause.

Frodo found him, after a while, and Bilbo grinned at the little boy with his heart too full to speak. He caught Frodo by the hands and whirled him around, and laughed aloud at the joy in Frodo’s eyes. 

“This is a wonderful party, Uncle Bilbo!” he shouted. “Can we do this every year?”

“I don’t know about that,” Bilbo hedged. It was a rather fantastically difficult and expensive thing to orchestrate. But he watched the children dance together, wild and free, and saw the light and hope in the faces of all the people he loved best in the world. “I hope so,” he finally told Frodo. The little boy giggled at that, flinging his arms around Bilbo’s knees for a moment, and then tearing off again in search of his particular friends.

It was possible that Bilbo had a bit too much to drink, after that, because it all became a blur for a long while. He remembered dancing with Thorin, when he could pull him away from the other musicians, and being introduced to dozens of new people, and even another long stretch of exceptionally satisfying eating, but the details slipped away in a warm and lovely haze. When he finally felt like he was fully paying attention again, he noted with some surprise that it was nearly dark, and that Frodo was already asleep at his side, head pillowed on Bilbo’s lap. He sighed in contentment, arranging himself in a more comfortable position in the cool, thick grass, and grinned up stupidly at the stars that were coming out overhead. 

“You look pleased,” Thorin said, dropping down to sit by Bilbo and knocking gently into him by way of greeting. “Enjoyed yourself, have you?”

“Hmmm,” Bilbo agreed. He still felt too contented to speak properly. They sat together in the growing dusk, listening to the snatches of song and laughter all around them, and Bilbo let his head drop to Thorin’s shoulder. 

And then, there were fireworks.

They were like nothing Bilbo had ever seen before. They seemed more than half alive, sparkling and dancing across the sky, and the echoes of their explosions rang out against the mountain and were bounced back, until they seemed surrounded by the sound and light of Gandalf’s wizardry. Everyone went very quiet and watched in something like awe. Bilbo tore his eyes away from the lights to cast his gaze over the whole crowd, and felt something huge and warm well up within his heart. 

They were all there together - all safe and sound, sharing their lives together in a day that had been more wonderful than he had even dared hope. The lights flared and faded on upturned faces, bringing them together in a way that he wished would never end. He knew that once the fireworks were over, they would scatter to their different homes - and the next day would be different. Fili and Kili and Gandalf bore bad news, and Balin and Oin and Ori were leaving. There was a sudden, terrible fear in Bilbo’s heart that this moment - this peace that brought them all together as one - was the last of it’s kind. 

The final firework went up with a piercing whistle and burst forth in a shape very like a dragon - red and gold, with firey wings - and then it was gone. The last sparks faded, falling almost sadly as their tiny fires died. Bilbo held his breath, trying to prolong the moment - but it was gone, as well, and everyone was standing and stretching, beginning to say their farewells.

“Here,” Thorin murmured, standing and coming around to lift Frodo very gently, not waking the little boy. “I’ll put him to bed, if you want to see them off.”

He didn’t - not really - but he knew his duty, and did it well. The flood of people leaving the mountain seemed to move even faster than they had arrived, and it was hardly any time at all before it was almost quiet again. The families who lived on the mountain had dragged themselves home to bed, and the lights were going out in the little cottages. By the time Thorin reappeared, Bilbo was sitting by the fire, poking at it with a stick, and trying not to let himself become too melancholy. 

“Hey.” Fili’s quiet voice sounded far too loud in the silence, and Bilbo and Thorin both jumped a little as he and Kili entered the circle of firelight, dropping themselves down to sit on the ground, shoulder to shoulder. 

“I think we’d best save the lecture for tomorrow, boys,” Thorin said, sounding tired - but also a little amused. But they both shook their heads, and there was no mischief in them. 

“We’d better hear what they have to say,” Gandalf said soberly. He had appeared on the other side of the fire, seemingly out of nowhere, and tood a seat on a sturdy old log opposite Bilbo and Thorin. “It is a serious matter.” He nodded at them, and Fili took a deep breath.

“It was something that Gandalf said, actually, that started us off.” He glanced over at Gandalf, who was looking inscrutable. “I probably wasn’t meant to hear it, but they’re still not used to having me around, and sometimes they forget.”

“Fili told me about it, and we decided we ought to look into it,” Kili continued. “I started talking to some of my old contacts - just talking!” He waved his hands in the air, as if in self-defense. “And the rumours were starting to build even then, a few months back.”

“Smaug?” Thorin rumbled. The anger in the one word startled Bilbo. He had almost forgotten it. 

“No,” Fili whispered. “Something worse. Something - or someone, maybe - who was behind Smaug all along. He didn’t just get his power from nowhere, you know.”

Kili leaned forward. His eyes were very dark in the firelight. “They’re looking for you, Uncle Bill,” he said soberly. “They say you have something important - something this person needs very badly.”

“Who are?” Bilbo asked. His throat was very dry, all of a sudden, and he was inestimably grateful for Thorin’s solid presence at his side. 

Kili darted a glance at his brother and at Gandalf, and then murmured, scarcely loud enough to be heard. “The Black Riders.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So originally, this party was meant to be the final chapter of the Children of the Lonely Mountain series. But as I began to develop it, it became clearer and clearer to me that it was actually the perfect start to Durin's Folk. If you haven't read the Children of the Lonely Mountain stories, you may be a bit confused by some of the characters here. I'm sorry - it's a little self-indulgent, but I wanted to have everyone together one last time before we really dive in. 
> 
> And now here we are. The plot begins to thicken! Thank you all SO MUCH for your kindness and support already! I never cease to be astounded by your regard for this odd little world, and I love nothing so much as getting to share it with you.


	3. Shadows of the Past

“What,” Bilbo asked, with what he considered an admirable amount of self-control, “are the Black Riders?”

“They were honest men and women, once,” Gandalf said, his voice a low, steady murmur. “Nothing more. But they grew powerful, and caught the eye of some greater force. We are not certain how it was done, but seemingly overnight, nine of the most prominent businesspeople in the country suddenly walked away from all they had created. They joined forces under the name of Mordor Incorporated, and we have never since been able to speak with any of them.”

Bilbo relaxed, and let out a deep breath. “No need to go and scare me like that! With a name like that, I thought we were in for trouble!”

“We are!” Fili insisted. “Mordor has tentacles in everything! Manufacturing, supply, food production, media - you name it, they’re meddling in it! If the Black Riders are after you, they could destroy everything we have here - and in a completely above-board way. They wouldn’t have to break a single law.”

Thorin growled in agreement. “Bombur has mentioned Mordor before, when speaking of some of his less scrupulous political acquaintances. There are many politicians in Mordor’s pockets, that is certain, and plenty who yet have no love for us.”

“Word on the street is that they’re sending forces out to nab you in particular, Uncle Bill,” Kili said soberly. It was strange to see him so still and intent, and Bilbo swallowed. The fear came rushing back in full force. “They can make people disappear. I looked into it - and everyone knows they do it, and nobody can stop it. There was a journalist who was writing about us a few years back - Faramir Stewart, he was called. He wouldn’t stop asking questions and digging for the truth - and then he was gone! He’s been missing for almost two years now. All the gangs know is that it was Mordor, and that people who get snatched by the Black Riders aren’t seen again.”

“That’s not going to happen,” Thorin declared. The certainty in his voice was bracing, although Bilbo knew better than to believe everything was going to be all right just because Thorin said it was. “We won’t let them lay a finger on you.”

“But I don’t understand why they’re after me at all!” Bilbo protested. “I haven’t got money or power, and I’m certainly not doing anything to uncover their secrets. I’ve hardly left this mountain in months!”

Fili glanced at Kili, and then looked at Bilbo, rubbing his forehead awkwardly. He and Kili both looked guilty. “Remember that brilliant little adventure we convinced you to go on with us, back when you were still at Bag End? The informant in Glasgow?”

“There are, occasionally, times when I manage to forget it,” Bilbo said severely. “That was one of your worst plans ever - and that’s saying something, lads.”

“It’s even worse than you know,” Kili said glumly. “The flash drive you got from Gollum? That’s what they’re after.”

Bilbo frowned. That made no sense at all. “But we’ve already decrypted all of that information, and made it public! There’s nothing left!”

“That is not quite accurate.” Gandalf leaned in a bit closer, and the flickering firelight made his lined face look almost sinister. “As it happens, Gollum stole the drive from Smaug before you stole it from him - but Smaug had stolen it before that, from the head of Mordor himself. We cannot get straight answers from the man, but this much we have learned. Smaug was working closely with Mordor for many years. They put him into a position of power and supported his goals, and he saw to it that Mordor received lucrative contracts for green energy initiatives - which they had no intention of fulfilling. The relationship turned sour near the end, and Smaug seems to have stolen the drive as a form of insurance against retaliation.”

“But it’s just a flash drive!” Bilbo protested. “Whatever made it valuable to Mordor must have been erased at some point. There was nothing but Smaug’s data on the drive!”

“Not on the drive,” Gandalf agreed. “In the drive. There is something intrinsic to the drive itself that makes it valuable. It may be some sort of key, or be wired to perform a particular function.”

“All we know is that they want it badly,” Fili put in. 

“And so they can’t have it,” Kili finished, as though the sentence had been his own to begin with. 

“We can’t just give it to them and be done with it?” Bilbo asked. He knew it was a useless hope. When was anything in his life ever that straightforward?

“That would be most unwise,” Gandalf rumbled. “My organisation is investigating Mordor as we speak, though there is precious little to find on their activities. Smaug has been our chief informant, and although we cannot trust much of what he says, I believe the threat is real. Mordor is planning an attack that would cause inestimable damage to this country, and we cannot allow anything to fall into their hands that might aid them in their aims.”

“But they know where we live, surely!” Bilbo said, glancing over his shoulder as if expecting to see Black Riders behind him already. “Everyone knows. It’s not exactly a secret.”

“No, it isn’t.” Thorin took Bilbo’s hand, pressing it tight. “We need to get you out of here.”

“I’m not leaving!” Bilbo protested. “This is my home, Thorin! I can’t just run off into the blue again. There’s Frodo to think of, and-”

“And none of that will matter if they take you!” Thorin growled. “I will not stand by and see you in danger, but I don’t see how the mountain can be made safe enough, if these Black Riders have as much power as you say.” He looked to Fili and Kili, who both nodded fiercely. 

“We’ve been as sneaky as we know how to be - and that’s saying something,” Kili said, with a hint of his usual enthusiasm. “I don’t think word will have gotten back to them yet that we know they’re after you.”

“But there’s no time to waste,” Fili continued. “I’ve been tracking them through police surveillance, and they’re on the move.”

“Fili,” Gandalf said sternly. “I did not teach you to use the systems in that way.”

“No, you didn’t,” he shot back, straightening his shoulders a bit. “I taught myself - just like Kili taught himself how to break into the secure wards in the hospitals to get information out of Mordor-affiliated prisoners. We’ve all got our own skills.”

“But you promised me you would abide by the law!” Bilbo said. He was glad of the darkness and his distance from the fire, because he didn’t particularly want anyone to see just how hurt he was by their broken promises. “It seems I cannot trust you out of earshot!”

“Sorry, Uncle Bill,” Fili said quietly. He didn’t sound at all repentant. “But, no, you can’t - not if it means abandoning you or letting you get caught up in this business, just for the sake of some useless laws. We’re never going to be trustworthy in that way, so please don’t ask us to.”

“But you can trust us,” Kili put in. He looked at Bilbo beseechingly. “You know you can. You can trust us to look after the family’s best interests, and to keep your secrets - closer than you keep them yourself!”

Thorin shook his head, looking deeply sorrowful. “And if you get yourselves thrown in prison, what good will you be to anyone?”

“We’re not going to prison,” Fili scoffed. “We’re coming with you, of course!”

Bilbo threw up his hands in exasperation. “I’m not going anywhere!”

“I think you’d better,” Gandalf interrupted, just as he was about to start into a well-deserved rant about the whole mess. “The Black Riders are after you - and the drive you carry. It is precious to them. If they come to this mountain to seek it out-”

Bilbo felt, rather than saw, Thorin’s instinctive wince of horror at the threat to his newly-reclaimed home, and the fire went out of him. “Beinn Chuirn isn’t safe as long as I’m here, is it?” he asked dully. No-one spoke. He waited a long moment, and then nodded his head, sighing. “Then I’ll go. Frodo and I can take the bloody thing far away. Maybe we’ll drop it into the sea or something.”

“No!” Gandalf’s voice was sharp. “We do not know yet what it means, or what it may do. Keep it secret, and keep it safe, until we can find more answers.”

Kili cleared his throat awkwardly, and Bilbo looked at him, bemused when he saw the strange face the lad was making. It took him a moment to read the signals that both boys were sending, and then he turned to Thorin. “Would you mind going and fetching the awful thing? I think I’d better start keeping it close.” Thorin nodded, and was gone in an instant. Once he was sure Thorin was out of earshot, Bilbo turned back to the lads. “Speak fast,” he told them. “Why did you want him gone?”

“It’s about Frodo,” Kili started, and then went silent.

“Don’t take him with you,” Fili finished. 

Bilbo blinked at them. It was close to the last thing he would have expected them to say. “What do you mean? I’m his family, lads. I’m not about to leave him behind.”

“Then you’ll be doing him an injury,” Fili said sharply. “He’s nine, Uncle Bill. He doesn’t deserve to be dragged into this.”

“Just a moment,” Bilbo said, beginning to feel entirely wrongfooted. “I’m talking about taking him with me on a little adventure, which would involve staying as far as possible away from the people out to do us harm. Correct me if I’m wrong, but isn’t that exactly the sort of thing that you two grew up doing?”

“Yes.” Kili’s voice was no more than a whisper. “That’s why we’re saying it. Don’t do it, Uncle Bill. Please.”

“Leave him here. Let him stay with Sam for the time being, or with any of the family. He’ll be happier.” Fili’s voice was flat and distant.

“But you said you loved it as children - growing up on the road, moving from one adventure to the next!” Bilbo protested. “For heaven’s sake, I’m not proposing to turn him into-.” He broke off, suddenly aware that there was no good way to end that sentence that didn’t reflect badly on their own childhoods. 

“An exile?” Kili asked, sounding impossibly bleak. “A criminal? A vagrant? Neither did Uncle Thorin, when it all started, and look what became of us.” He gestured between himself and his brother - though there were hardly six inches of space separating them. “We love Frodo - like he was our own brother - and we don’t want him growing up like us.“

Bilbo found that there was a strange lump in his throat. He couldn’t think of anything to say to that - and was glad when the odd moment was interrupted by Thorin’s return. He was carrying the little leather pouch that held the drive. Bilbo nearly snatched it from his hands, feeling unusually fretful. He checked to see that the drive was still inside, and then tucked the pouch deep inside an inner pocket in his parka, buttoning it securely closed. With the little bit of troublesome metal hidden away, close to him and under his watch, Bilbo felt a little more secure.

“What should we do?” he asked Gandalf. “Where can we go?”

“You need to shake the Black Riders before you go anywhere in particular,” the old man mused. “I would advise you to make for Elrond’s home in Glen Etive. Rivendell is more secure than anywhere else that is readily accessible, and I will be working with Elrond to gather information for you. Take a few days to make your way there, by whatever means necessary - and be on your guard! The Black Riders are more cunning and subtle than you may expect, and they have eyes everywhere.”

“When must we leave?”

“As soon as we can,” Thorin answered. “I will go and speak to Balin and Dwalin, and perhaps some of the others. We’ll need a plan to keep the mines operational, however long this may keep us away.”

“Wait, what?” Bilbo asked, and felt his brow furrow in confusion. “You’re not leaving, too? This place is your dream, Thorin! I can manage to stay hidden on my own.”

Thorin smiled at him - a warm, sweet thing in the firelight - and shook his head. “You followed me around the country on a perilous adventure with no real chance of success. Do you think I’m about to do any less for you now?” He nodded once, sharp and simple. “I’m coming with you.” 

And that was that.

Somehow, they made it through the night. Bilbo found himself packing and repacking a few battered old satchels left over from the bad old days, and trying to remember what they had once contained. Thorin seemed to spend the entire night wandering the mountain, waking up one companion after another, and holding innumerable whispered conversations with them. Fili and Kili were everywhere at once, as was their way, and they managed to repack all of Bilbo’s bags properly in one of their rushed passes through his little sitting room. Fili kept one eye glued to his mobile at all times, and stopped Bilbo to show him a grainy picture sometime near dawn.

“They’re getting close,” he murmured. “Maybe two hours out. It’ll be harder to track them as they move north toward us.”

Bilbo nodded, and went to tell Thorin. By the time dawn broke over Beinn Chuirn, the Sons of Durin were all gathered in their little village, looking solemn.

“My friends,” Thorin began. His voice sounded a bit strained. “I had hoped that our return here would be the end of our struggles - but that was never likely to be the case. For centuries, Durin’s folk have lived on these lands, and for centuries, they have paid for them in toil and blood. But this is not the end of our story! We have reached a parting of ways, and no more.” 

To their right, Balin, Oin, and Ori stood in a little group, similarly packed and ready to leave. Dwalin and Bofur had dug out their old leather jackets from somewhere and were prepared to take to their motorbikes, planning to serve as both an advance guard and a diversion, as necessary. The rest huddled awkwardly together, wearing expressions of combined anger and puzzled worry that Bilbo was secretly certain only the Sons of Durin could pull off. 

“Don’t worry about us,” Dori said steadily. “We’ll look after things here in your absence. You’ll hardly know you’ve been gone!” He offered a nervous smile.

“If there’s anything we can do to assist, Moria is only a few hours away,” Balin reminded them all gently. 

From the middle of their protective huddle, Frodo pulled himself away and came over to Bilbo, tugging at his sleeve. Bilbo dropped to one knee to look him in the eyes.

“Are you coming back soon, Uncle Bilbo?” he asked.

“As soon as possible, my dear Frodo,” he promised. “And you’ll look after Sam and the rest while I’m gone, won’t you?”

“Of course!” Frodo nodded, and then looked worried again. “And you’ll look after Thorin and Fili and Kili?”

“Just as much as we’ll look after him,” Fili assured him kindly. He put out his hand, and they shared the secret handshake they had invented more than a year before, when Frodo had wanted a special promise that Fili and Kili wouldn’t go away and forget him. “We’ll be back before you know it!”

Kili crouched down next to him, ruffling Frodo’s dark curls. “Don’t forget to make loads and loads of trouble for them!” he whispered in a horribly loud voice. “It’s your job to keep the adults too busy to worry about unimportant things!” Frodo giggled at that.

With a sigh, Bilbo reached out to hug the little boy. He hadn’t been away from Frodo for more than a day or two since his little cousin had first come to live with him, and it took real willpower to make himself let go again. 

There were embraces all around, then, and bruising slaps on the back - and then the Sons of Durin broke apart, and headed away in their separate directions. Bilbo followed Thorin and the lads down an unfamiliar path that led away from the beaten car-track, pausing at the last moment to look back into their peaceful little glen. 

“I wonder if I’ll ever really see it again?” he muttered to himself, as he was struck by a sudden wave of uncertainty. It seemed possible, now, that he would not look upon the familiar sight again - and that was an unbearable thought. But he was a Baggins, once of Bag End, and so he squared his shoulders, and hoisted his battered satchel a bit higher, and walked away with his head held high.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh my goodness. Hi, you guys! Thank you so much for all the lovely notes! I've been grinning at the list of Kudos and comments all day, because I recognise so many familiar names from way back when! So many of you have been on this journey with me for so long now, and I'm delighted to see you back. Thank you so much for continuing to read my madness! I've been smiling all day just thinking about it - and that's saying something. Let's just say you've made me happier than I've been in a long while, and I thank you all for it. <3

**Author's Note:**

> Well, I'm back.
> 
> I've been threatening - ahem, promising - that this sequel would be in the works for far too long now. I'll be totally honest and tell you folks that I have no idea how often I'll be able to update. I'll do my best, but my life is sort of a disastrous hellscape on a few fronts right now, and I cannot predict from one day to the next what it might look like. I swear I'll do my best, and ask you to bear with me!
> 
> This work is going to dive fairly deep into the Lord of the Rings material. Some aspects of the story will be very familiar, and others will hopefully be quite unexpected. Expect to see an overwhelming number of characters, all in due time!
> 
> On a really selfish note, I'm writing this again (instead of my original novels) because I need to be part of the community and offer something of some value. I very much hope you all enjoy, and look forward to going back to this wonderfully bizarre world. Thank you for sharing this journey with me. ~ Kivrin.


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